


Duke Errens

by pertainstothesea



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe- Novelist, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9960677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pertainstothesea/pseuds/pertainstothesea
Summary: Based off of my own au suggestion, because I wanted to read it that much: Nursey has secretly gotten a book contract already and has published the first two books of a trilogy under a pen name. This is Dex’s favorite series.





	1. Chapter 1

“Dex, did you see where I put the– Are you reading a Duke Errens book?” Dex didn’t look up.  
“Yup.”

“How do you like it?” Nursey asked, his pulse picking up. He hadn’t told anyone at Andover that he was Duke Errens– the only people who knew he was published were his parents and the Samwell coaches.

“This is my fifth read-through this year,” Dex replied, “so it’d be safe to say I like it. Look, Nurse, I know they aren’t your fancy fucking capital-L Literature, but they’re really good books with tons of details and awesome characters.”

Nursey breathed an internal sigh of relief. Dex didn’t know about the pen name. _I sort of read them when I wrote them_ , he didn’t say. 

“I’m not a book snob,” he said instead. “If it’s good, it’s good. I just have to read the capital-L stuff for classes so I don’t have a ton of time for other stuff.”

“Noted,” Dex said. “The only downside is that this fucker is taking forever on the third book. At this rate I’m gonna be 45 wondering what happened to a bunch of high schoolers.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Nursey said, screaming internally.

 

 

“Brah, I fucking love those books!” Shitty said, making Dex look up from where he was writing a note in the margins. “Everyone who went to Andover is convinced they were written by an alum.”

“There are demons at Andover?” Dex asked.

“Yeah, they’re called teachers. No, if you look at the way LaVerre Academy is set up, it’s totally the same place. And Dr. Kurtz in the books is totally the same as our guidance counsellor.” 

“I can’t believe you went to an actual school with an actual headmaster,” Dex said, underlining a word. Shitty shrugged. 

“I can’t believe you found a class that would teach you a Mike DeLark book,” he said. Dex shook his head.

“This isn’t for class. Someone on the forums was trying to argue that Brody Page is totally dead, but I don’t think that Errens would do that,” Dex explained.  “He’s made Brody too important, as one of like three non-shitty people there. My money is on Brody coming back as a demon, especially if Mike DeLark goes to college in the next book instead of dropping out to fight evil. Then Mike’s gonna have to really reconcile his true calling of demon-slaying with the possibility that he might not always know the right thing to do, since he’ll have to slay Brody or let a demon go free. See, in chapter six…”

_Okay_ , Nursey thought, from where he was listening right outside the door. _He has to know. He isn’t just figuring it all out from nowhere. Dex has figured out that Brody Page equals Shitty Knight, and he knows that I’m not original enough to stop basing Mike’s life on my school and the people around me_. He took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen.

“Any more predictions on that third book, Poindexter? I read the others over the weekend,” he lied.

Dex’s eyes lit up, and he launched into an entirely inaccurate explanation of what all the foreshadowing in the book was pointing to.

 

“I can’t believe you lied to me.”

_He’s figured it out_ , Nursey thought. His mind swirled with half-formed apologies, the careful speeches he’d rehearsed to the mirror blurring into each other thanks to panic and music and the booze of the kegster. He stepped towards Dex to start explaining, but tripped over a solo cup on the floor. Dex bent over to help him up, but kept talking.

“Why didn’t you just admit that you were a huge Errens fanboy when I brought it up the first time? You didn’t need to fake like you’d never read them,” Dex continued, unaware of the crisis Nursey was going through. He poked the small tattoo on the inside of Nursey’s bicep, visible thanks to his tank top. It was an eleven-pointed star with a tiny dot on each spike. Nursey had gotten it after he signed his publishing contract. It was the symbol in the middle of the LaVerre Academy crest. He laughed nervously while Dex pulled him up from the ground, hoping Dex was too tipsy to notice anything unusual in his response.

“Gotta keep up that English major reputation,” he babbled. “I just went along with what you were thinking, it gave me an excuse to reread the books, it’s all good!” Dex was frowning. 

“You should tell me when I say stuff that’s wrong,” he said. “I’m your friend, I don’t want to be an asshole. I want to know these things.” Nursey nodded. His mouth was dry with the guilt of the accumulating lies.

 

Nursey’s room was a hellscape of empty coffee mugs, crushed energy drink cans, and scattered papers. Deadline week was always the roughest part of the year. He watched the blinking cursor waiting for the next word on his monitor. The third book would not write itself, no matter how much he stared. There was an elaborate, bloody, badass battle in his mind, one that would push Mike DeLark to his breaking point and convey several metaphorically resonant messages about the fight between good and evil, but every time he tried to write it down it sounded stupid. May as well just write “bad guys are bad, good guys are good.”He sighed and let his face fall onto his keyboard. Someone knocked on the door. Nursey groaned and hauled himself out of his seat. Dex was on the other side of the door.

“You haven’t stopped by the Haus in four days and everyone is making bets about whether you gone-girled yourself,” he said before Nursey could greet him. “Come on, you’ve got to– Jesus H Christ, what died in here?” He looked at the piles of trash scattered around the room in horror. He turned around and disappeared down the hallway for a minute, returning with two trash bags. Pushing past Nursey into the room, Dex started sorting the trash as quickly as possible, tossing cans and plastic into one bag and molding coffee cups and snack wrappers into another.

“Did I miss anything?” he demanded. Nursey sheepishly reached behind his bookshelf and pulled out three more cans. Dex tied the bags neatly and dragged Nursey out of the room.

“It’s like you want to test the roaches versus attic man theory,” he chirped. He tossed the trash bag into the trash closet and shoved the clanking cans into the recycling.

“Wow, thanks, Captain Planet,” Nursey half-heartedly joked. 

“Bite me and my five-cent deposit,” Dex replied, but there wasn't the normal defensiveness behind his words. “It’s a tough habit to break. Now, when’s the last time you ate real food?” 

“I ate some fish. Well, technically Swedish Fish. And Goldfish crackers.” 

Protesting weakly, he let Dex drag him towards Denny’s and away from his novel.

 

“Shitty!” Dex yelled, running into the kitchen. “Duke Errens is doing an AMA on Reddit next week!” His phone showed Duke Errens’ twitter account, where there was a picture of a handwritten note with a date and a url. Shitty looked over the date and time.

“No game, no class then,” he noted. “I think we’re good! Nursey, you in?”

“Uh, I think I have a– uh, I’m going home that weekend, so I’m gonna have to skip this one!” he lied. Neither of the others seemed to notice his brief panic.

“I just want to know, like, a single thing about this guy,” Dex said. “He’s crazy reclusive. Nobody knows how old he is, or where he went to college–” _goes to college_ , Nursey amended mentally “– or even what he looks like!” 

“Gonna ask Duke Errens for a selfie, Dex?” he chirped to hide his panic.

 

Nursey settled into a conference room table at his publisher’s office. His editor had promised they wouldn’t take any pictures of him to preserve his anonymity, he got to order an intern three years older than him to make a Starbucks run, and now he got to just talk about himself to people who already loved him. Honestly, a perfect day. _Hey guys_ , he typed. _You want deets? I’ll give them to you, as long as they aren’t about how the next book goes down or like my social security number. I’ll do this for two hours, starting now._ He sipped his mocha as the questions started to roll in. 

**_How old are you?_** _19_

**_How did you get published so young???_** _10% luck, 20% skill, 15% concentrated power of will, 5% pleasure, 50% pain..._

**_Is Duke Errens your real name?_** _No_.

**_Are you in college?_** _Yes_

**_Where do you get your ideas from?_** _The people and places around me, the way I wish situations had happened, my daydreams._

**_Is Mike gonna be okay in the next book?_ ** _I mean, he’s a demon hunter, he’ll have to fight demons and suffer a bunch. They don’t pay the big bucks for slow-burn coffeeshop stuff._

He usually skipped over the usernames, focusing on the questions rather than the asker, but one caught his eye.

**_dmandexter: Is this gonna be the last Mike DeLark book?_ **

_It’ll be the last LaVerre book_ , Derek typed, _but (don’t tell my publisher I told you this) I’m pulling a Rick Riordan and starting a second series with some of the same people_. In a sudden burst of recklessness, he added _Always nice to talk to a fellow defenseman._

The personal questions started narrowing in immediately.

**_Do you play college hockey???_ ** _Yes._

**_NCAA?_ ** _Yes._ **_Where do you live?_ ** _The northeastern quadrant of the USA. Please don’t stalk me, guys. Anyone have book questions?_

**_Have you ever kissed someone?_** Okay, back to the more generic questions, even if they weren’t talking about the book. _Yes._ ** _are you a dude?_** _Yep._ ** _When Mike is chasing demons..._**

 

 

When he got back to the Haus for a team dinner at the end of the weekend, Nursey was tired from travel but felt confident about the book. The personal questions had kept coming, but he managed to debunk a few fan theories that had been bugging him. Hopefully his air of mystery was still intact. He wasn’t expecting a web of sticky notes and red string to be stuck to every wall on the first floor.

“Eliminate Stevens, he turned 20 on Wednesday,” Dex called from behind a laptop. Holster pulled a name off from near the fridge, crumpled it up, and tossed it. It hit Nursey in the face as he stepped into the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. 

“You missed the AMA. Duke Errens answered one of my questions! And he called me ‘a fellow defenseman!’ When you have a minute, go back and read the whole thing. The biggest clues we found are on the fridge.”

An oversized yellow post-it note on the door read:

19 YRS OLD

D-MAN

NCAA

NORTHEAST

“You’re trying to figure out who he is,” Nursey said. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, drowning out everything else. 

“Before the fandom gets to it,” Ransom explained. “Dex made me and Holtzy read the first book last night.” A printout of Mike DeLark’s scarred face stared out at them from behind the criss-crossing red strings. It felt like he was judging Nursey, challenging him to confess to the team. _I fought the greatest evil the world has ever known_ , Nursey imagined him saying, _and you can’t even face the possibility that your friends will like you more as a writer than a person, that they’ll demand to know everything you’ve planned for me, they’ll like me more than they like you, that they’ll try to read my story early, that they’ll use you for your success–_

Nursey took a deep breath to ground himself. He played it cool. 

“Glad to know they named the Bachelor of Science BS for a reason,” he chirped, deflecting the conversation away from the mystery. “You guys have time for this, but I barely got to sleep all weekend thanks to four novels and three essays. Tell me again how it’s my degree that doesn’t understand hard work?” While Holster protested that Economics was actually a BA, Ransom tried to argue that this was studying, and Dex tried to get the attention back on the investigation, he slid into the kitchen, tripping halfway over his own feet, and grabbed one specific note off the wall. When he got back to his room, he uncrumpled it from his pocket and set it on his desk.

His own name stared up at him from the page. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are harder to keep the longer you keep them.

_From “The Real Mystery of LaVerre Academy: An Exclusive Interview with Duke Errens, author of The LaVerre Chronicles,” first published in The New York Times_ : 

**New York Times: Your identity has gained a reputation as the publishing world’s best-kept secret. Why do you maintain such a secret identity?**

Duke Errens: _When I was first published, I was still in high school. I made the decision with my parents and my editor that it would be best for me to keep my professional and personal lives separate. You don’t want your English teachers to stop pushing you because they know you’re published._

**NYT: But surely some people besides your parents know?**

DE: _Nope._

**NYT: In a recent Reddit AMA, you revealed that you play hockey. Nobody on your team knows that you are Duke Errens?**

DE: _None of them have a clue._

**NYT: Why haven’t you told them?**

DE: _Well, as you saw in the AMA, I play a very competitive level of hockey, and I don’t want to make anyone feel bad about checking their favorite author (He laughs). My friends do actually like my books. I don’t know. Part of it is that I don’t want anything to change in how they treat me or see me. I don’t want anyone to use me for my fame. I just want them to treat me like normal._

 

“Get a move on, asshole, or we’ll be late to practice.” Dex plucked the newspaper out of Nursey’s hands and tossed it down on the table.

“I’m starting to think that your crush on Duke Errens is bigger than Dex’s,” Chowder said, eyeing the article Nursey had been reading.

“He’s my hero, not my crush, there’s a difference!” Dex protested.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Chowder said, sarcasm sounding almost sincere. “It’s so obvious, you just talk about how smart and cool and amazing Duke Errens is every time we pass the promo poster outside the bookstore! That’s what you do for your heroes, not celebrity crushes!”

“How can you have a crush on someone you know nothing about?” Nursey asked. “Hashtag think about it, hashtag infatuation.”The conversation turned once more to his gratuitous use of the word ‘hashtag.’ It was becoming second nature to deflect these lines of discussion. He only became a nervous wreck half the time now. 

 

After a couple of interviews stressing how important the secrecy of his identity was, Nursey walked into the Haus to see the team tearing down the conspiracy wall. Holster admitted that they all felt bad after reading the one where Duke Errens said he didn’t want his status as an author to affect his hockey life.

“That’d majorly mess with my game if it was me, bro,” Ransom added. “It’s not fair to hurt his hockey just cause we want to know about his books.” Nursey nodded casually, like an enormous weight hadn’t just lifted off of his chest.

“I still think it’s probably that one guy from Harvard,” Dex said. “Dave Erickson. The initials match and everything.”

“What kind of bullshit environment is his team fucking creating if the kid doesn’t want to tell any of them?” Shitty asked. Lardo rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, Shits, that’s the issue that hockey culture needs to fix first, a fear of revealing that you’re a bestselling author.”

Of course, the internet, being the internet, kept speculating. Nursey made it onto a couple of listicles about Duke Errens’ potential identity. The team laughed it off.

“Yeah, T.S. Eliot over here wrote a teen fantasy series, that’s believable,” Dex laughed. “Nurse probably just has a secret poetry collection out there somewhere.”

 

Nursey had to give it to the publicity department, they were promoting the hell out of the last book. Preorders online were through the roof. Every few days he had to argue with his editor about whether or not he should be doing more interviews. He just wished it wasn’t so aggressive on campus. The bookstore had a countdown calendar to the release date, even though it wouldn’t be out for another two months.

“They’re just playing on your nostalgia for a few years ago, brah,” Shitty was telling Dex. They were flipping through a promotional preview of the first chapter while half the team sat scattered around the living room. Dex shook his head.

“I’m not nostalgic for high school. High school sucked. It was the height of ‘soulless ginger’ jokes. I just want to see all the loose ends tied up. And... I don’t know, life is really stressful right now. It’s nice to have something to think about that isn’t code.” Lardo nodded.

“The distraction project. Makes sense. That’s how half the decorations in this Haus happened.” She pointed at the cabinet the TV sat on. “All of the shelves in there are painted purple on the bottom.”

“Let’s not forget the constant distraction projects happening in the kitchen,” Shitty said. 

“I can hear you, Shitty, and no one in that room is getting pie!”

“None of us frogs were slandering your work ethic!” Chowder protested. Nursey laughed, relieved to not have to keep pretending not to care what his team was saying about his work.

 

“We’re friends, right?” Chowder was looking at Nursey expectantly from across the table. They were the only ones still in the group study room of the library at this hour of the night.

“Of course we’re friends.”

“So I can talk to you if I’m worried about you.”

“What’s this about, Chow?” Nursey started drumming his pen on a stack of textbooks.

“Why do you get all freaked out whenever Dex brings up that book series you two like? I thought having something in common would make you better friends, but–”

“I have never freaked out about anything ever in my entire life,” Nursey blurted out. Chowder stared at him for a second. He raised one eyebrow.

“So you aren’t freaking out right now.”

“Nope. Not at all. Not one iota. Not for a millisecond. Chill. Like a penguin.”

“Ooookay. Then I have another question.” Nursey breathed a sigh of relief. Every time he got someone to drop the subject felt like a victory.

“Shoot.”

“Am I supposed to keep ignoring the fact that Duke Errens is an anagram of Derek Nurse?” They stared at each other for what felt like an hour. Chowder’s face was neutral, but all Nursey could hear was the accusation behind the observation. Panic gripped him. He launched out of his chair and bolted.

“Nursey! Wait–” Chowder’s shout was cut off by the slam of the door to the stairs behind him. He let everything fade into the background, focusing only on running. Breath, heartbeats, the slap of sneakers on concrete, the ache in his muscles. He found himself in front of his bedroom door. When he reached into his pocket for his keys, he realized he left them in his backpack. In the library. With Chowder. He tried the knob anyway. Luckily for him, he had forgotten to lock it again. He made sure to lock it behind him once he got in before collapsing on his bed. Getting his stuff was a problem for future Nursey.

He didn’t know how long it had been when he heard his door open and close. Nursey bolted upright– people didn’t just walk into single rooms. Chowder stood there, wearing both his and Nursey’s backpacks. He jingled Nursey’s keys.

“You left your keys and ID, dumbass,” he said. 

 

They sat in silence for while. Chowder hadn’t started asking any questions, choosing instead to just sit down at Nursey’s desk and pull out his laptop. He typed away while Nursey tried to figure out what to say.

“Why aren’t you asking me any questions about the book?” he asked. Chowder looked up guiltily from his computer.

“I only read the wikipedia summary instead of the whole book,” he admitted, closing the laptop. “I learned enough to follow everyone else’s conversations about it. Sorry! It’s just not my thing.” Nursey started laughing. It wasn’t that the situation was funny, exactly, so much as unlikely.

“You’re telling me that you’re the only person who doesn’t care about it, and you’re the one who figured it out.” Chowder laughed a little, too.

“I wouldn’t have started noticing if you didn’t obviously steal your sticky note from the conspiracy wall.” He picked up the note with Nursey’s name on it from where it still sat on the desk. “You really need to learn how to hide things when you steal them, dude. Not subtle at all to run into the kitchen shoving really crinkly paper into your pocket.”

“So you’re an expert on pickpocketing now?” Nursey asked. Chowder had suspected for _that long_?

“I had an amateur magician phase. And the phase where I played every word game in the app store– for the anagrams. It doesn’t matter. But we need to talk about this.” Nursey’s palms were sweaty. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone you don’t want me to tell, but... it seems like it’s stressing you out a lot, and you might want someone to talk about it with? Like you don’t have to pretend to be relaxed about it? So I’m volunteering to be that person.” Nursey felt tears pushing at his eyelids.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No duh. But you’re one of my best friends.” Chowder bit his lip for a second, thinking. “You know how on The Office, when something really dumb happens, the characters look directly into the camera? It’s like the tv is telling you that they’re the only sane person left who can recognize how crazy their life is?” Nursey nodded. “In high school, me and some of my friends would pick a spot in each classroom and we decided that that would be our office camera. And then whenever someone would say something really dumb or annoying, we’d all look at that spot. Nobody else could tell. But I’d see the others looking, and know that I wasn’t the only one who knew something was ridiculous.” He looked at Nursey for a few seconds.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But if I’m noticing the dramatic irony, I’ll pick a spot to stare at for a few seconds. And that’ll let you know that you’re not the only one experiencing this.” He opened his laptop again. Nursey quietly wiped away one traitorous tear.

“Wow, are they really teaching the informatics kids about dramatic irony?” he chirped. Chowder rolled his eyes.

“I passed twelfth grade. I wish they’d teach the English majors how to not spill coffee on every book they own.”

“That was one book, Chow! One time!”

 

“I think the social media manager is going to lose her mind if she gets another tweet demanding to know your real name,” Charlene, the head of the publishing house, told Nursey. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Then she shouldn’t have gotten a job managing social media.” 

Charlene slid a piece of paper across the desk. “This buzz is amazing, Derek. Just look at the numbers. We want to keep it going as long as possible. I see that face– we’re not asking you to reveal your identity. That would actually kill the hype. We have a proposal for you. There will be a lottery– people donate, say, five bucks to a charity of your choice, and they’ll be entered to win a dinner with you. We’ll have them sign a nondisclosure agreement. Then you’ll get a nice meal out of it, they’ll ask you a few questions about the book, maybe even get an advance readers copy, a charity will get lots of money, and everyone wins. What do you think?” Nursey thought for a moment, looking over the sheet with a detailed plan of how this would be executed. 

“Give me two weeks before you launch this. And I have one condition...”

 

Chowder’s fake camera trick did actually help. Whenever he saw Chowder out of the corner of his eye determinedly staring at the top corner of the fridge or the green encyclopedia near their study table in the library, he felt like laughing instead of running away. And being able to vent on occasion was even better.

“Why’d he have to pick my book?” he asked. He was spotting Chowder in the weight room. Chowder lowered the weight he was lifting slowly before replying.

“Was he supposed to be obsessed with something else?”

“I don’t know, he seems like he should be into Lord of the Rings or something. Like, hardcore nerd shit, not my modern-day stuff. Look at him and tell me he wouldn’t teach himself elvish,” Nursey said. 

“There are like four different kinds of elvish.”Chowder took a swig of water. “You’re right though! He’d learn all of them. Or Harry Potter? He kind of looks like Ron!”

“I bet you five dollars that if you said that to his face, he’d turn redder than a tomato. Especially if you pointed out that the oldest Weasley was also a William,” Nursey said. Chowder laughed.

“At least it’s the cool brother? I think he’d kill me if I compared him to Percy. Wait,” he said, his eyes getting wide. “Do you think Dex has ever played D&D?”

“Oh my god. I’m sending his brother a friend request right now. We need answers.” Nursey tapped his phone emphatically. “He got pictures of when I still shopped at Hot Topic, and I need payback.”

“You were just as bad about my emo music!”

“Yeah, but you still listen to it so it’s not as fun to chirp you about it.” Nursey’s phone buzzed. He was expecting it to be Dex’s brother, but instead it was a text from his editor, reminding him of the things he needed to finalize before they could launch the contest.

“Chowder, I need your help.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking and... I’m going to tell the team about my book. But I need you to make it happen.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nursey and Chowder employ an overly complicated plan to tell Dex the truth.

Excerpt from the Advanced Reader Copy of Duke Errens’ upcoming novel, _Death is Such an Inconvenience_ , the final chapter in the LaVerre Trilogy: 

_Mike DeLark knew the man in front of him before he even turned around. Sure, his hair was longer, and he seemed to be trying to poorly disguise himself with a new mustache, but all the same, there he was. Brody Page. The last time Mike saw him was at his funeral. He had thought better of his friend. Only the worst returned, and Brody had been one of the best people he knew at LaVerre. Mike started to approach him, patting down his pockets to reassure himself that he had his holy water, salt, and dagger. In his distraction, he stumbled, and barely kept himself from faceplanting. Brody turned around as Mike swore. His eyes widened, but instead of running from Mike – like any sensible demon would do– he rushed to him._

_“You’re here!” he exclaimed._

_“You’re dead,” Mike replied. Somehow the magic wasn’t working on the band around his arm, which normally glowed in the presence of demons. His confusion stopped him from destroying the demon immediately._

_“We need to talk, Mike,” the being who used to be Brody whispered urgently. “It’s not as simple as we thought. Demons and all that, it’s not what we thought.”_

_“I know enough,” Mike said, reaching for his dagger. Brody grabbed his wrist, stopping him._

_“I didn’t go to hell when I died. Come on, man, give me more credit than that.” Wheels raced in Mike’s mind. If Brody hadn’t made a deal in hell..._

_“I’m not a demon. I’m a guardian.”_

 

 

“Hey Dex, I was wondering about your birthday,” Chowder said casually. He was washing the post-team dinner plates and handing them to Dex to dry off, while Nursey scooped leftovers into tupperware.

“What about it? It’s not for like a month,” Dex replied.

“Yeah, and I know you like to plan things out like two months in advance. Got any plans?” 

“Nope.”

“Okay, well, now you do,” Chowder said. He handed Dex the last plate and wiped his hands off on another towel. “Okay everyone, I’m telling him,” he hollered. He retrieved an already opened envelope from his backpack as the team piled into the kitchen wearing identical grins. With a flourish, he handed Dex the envelope.

“What is this?” Dex asked. He was flushing at all the attention, but he sounded hopeful rather than suspicious. Dex pulled the letter out as the team shouted for him to open it, then slapped his hand over his mouth. There were tears in his eyes as he looked up.

“You guys won a sweepstakes for me?” he asked.

“Everyone chipped in five bucks for an entry, and we were lucky!” Chowder lied. All of them had chipped in, that part was the truth, but Chowder had really just sent the charity money directly to Nursey’s editor, who then sent one letter to the Haus and one to the real winner of the contest.

“PERFECT PRESENT CELLY!” Holster cheered, pulling everyone into a group hug around Dex. Nursey grinned at Chowder across the pile.

 

_“Richy, Pirelox, meet my old friend from back in high school, Mike DeLark,” Brody said, entering the room first. Mike followed, ready to defend himself at any moment. But the magic in his tattoos wasn’t going off with alarm._

_Inside the room were two guys who he guessed were about his age. The first jumped up with a grin to greet him, but there was an intensity in his eyes that somehow told Mike that he would be a formidable opponent if crossed. The second stayed in his chair, arms tightly crossed over his chest._

_“I’m not gonna trust this guy until I have a reason to,” the seated one grumbled._

_“He’s B’s friend!” the other one said. “Hi! I’m Richy! Ignore him, he was just resurrected like a week ago and he’s annoyed that he had to lose his name and get a new one.”_

_“What do you mean, lost his name?” Mike demanded. He tried to say ‘Brody Page,’ but the words wouldn’t form._

_“There has to be an exchange,” the former Brody said. “Instead of souls, you give up names up there. It’s all good, though, it’s not like I liked my name.”_

_“Fucking good for you,” the seated guy said. “Glad it’s so easy for you to lose everything that ties you to who you were before.”_

 

Nursey had it all planned out. His publisher would get Dex ready to meet Duke Errens, he’d walk in and see Nursey sitting there, he’d be confused for a moment, but then he’d understand and everything would be fine and Nursey wouldn’t have to freak out every time someone talked about his books. 

“If you’re so calm and confident about this, why do you keep rehashing how the plan is gonna happen?” Chowder asked. They had stayed behind after everyone else left practice because the ice always helped Nursey refocus.

“It’s writer-brain. If you don’t think through every terrible thing that can happen, your books are boring. But then you do that to your real life, it’s anxiety, and it’s really hard to get the little person in the back of your brain who’s always screaming to stop screaming.” He slammed a puck. “And now that person is screaming about this.”

“Could you ask them to shut the fuck up?” Chowder asked, blocking the shot easily. “You know everyone else is gonna eat the lemon bars if we don’t get over there, like, an hour ago.”

“If Bitty didn’t save five for you, I’ll make a batch for you myself.”

“You think popcorn is tough to cook.”

“Your microwave has something against me, dude!”

 

“What would you do if he ends up being a total asshole?” Nursey asked Dex. 

“Then I take my advance reader copy back here and sulk for a week until I get over it. I mean, chances are we’ve played against the guy before and he hates me already.”

“What if we still need to play him this season?”

“I’ll ask the coaches not to make me get on the ice at the same time as him if I have to, but playing people you know is part of the game. Are you trying to get me to just tell you all the contingency plans I have in case this goes badly? Do you really think you have time for that whole list?” Dex demanded.

“Do you have a whole list?”

“I have a list for everything.”

“You can’t have a list for everything,” Nursey insisted.

“Throw a scenario at me,” Dex said, closing his laptop and resting his hands on top of it. They’d been in Annie’s long enough that both their mugs held only the cold dregs of coffee.

“What if he’s really weird-looking?” Nursey said.

“I’m meeting my favorite author, not going on a date. I don’t care what he looks like. Also, he plays hockey, so like, chances are he’s missing at least one tooth. Next.”

“Dude, that’s such a stereotype. I’m not missing any teeth.” Nursey leaned back and stretched his arms behind him. He grinned for emphasis.

“I have two fake teeth,” Dex said. He ran his tongue over his teeth, looking up in concentration. “Forgot one. Three fake teeth. That’s one of those stereotypes that’s a stereotype for a reason. Look at Holster, do you think half of those are real teeth?”

“How did I not know you’ve got fake teeth? Doesn’t this break some kind of teammate rule?” Nursey demanded. Dex rolled his eyes. 

“I said ‘Next,’ Nurse. What’s the next nightmare scenario?”

“What if we’ve played him before and he’s kicked our asses?” 

“I ignore that and ask about how Mike’s demon-sensing tattoo works. Do you think he had to go to like a magic tattoo parlor, or is that something you can get everywhere in that world?” Dex asked. Nursey filed the question away in the back of his mind to answer during the dinner– if Dex ended up staying long enough to get to that part.

“What if he’s... what if he’s a robot?”

“I’d ask to speak to his programmers to see why they’re keeping technology that so obviously passes the Turing test a secret. Next.”

“What if he’s a golden retriever? What if he’s Air Bud, but for hockey and also writing books?”

“Then he lied in his AMA, there’s no way a golden retriever could live to be 19. Seriously, dude? This is your idea of a nightmare scenario? Meeting a golden retriever and getting a free dinner?” Dex demanded.

“Your idea of solving the scenario is bringing up the mortality of Air Bud, dude, what the fuck,” Nursey said. “Now I’m sad. I didn’t have the mental image of Air Bud’s funeral until today. That mental image is totally your fault.”

“We wouldn’t have been talking about Air Bud at all if you hadn’t brought him up!” As he argued with Dex, Nursey still couldn’t stop wondering what the answer to his actual question would be.

_What will you do when you learn he’s already your best friend? What will you do when you learn your best friend’s been lying to you for months?_

 

“They’re having him meet me in Boston, since they’ve got an auxiliary office there and I won’t have enough time to go to New York for like three months. So what I was wondering is whether it’s cheaper to find parking or just get a lyft or something,” Dex asked Shitty. Nursey felt like his blood pressure was about to explode his entire body as he opened his mouth and said “Oh, is that this weekend? I can give you a ride if you need it, bro.” 

“That would be amazing, but they won’t let me bring anyone else into the restaurant even. Would you be okay stuck in Boston for a few hours?”

Somehow, even as every molecule in his body screamed at him t _his is a bad idea, do not do this thing, it could go so very very wrong_ , Nursey shrugged and nodded. “I could park myself in a Starbucks with my laptop in Samwell or in Boston, it doesn’t really matter to me. Maybe if I have a time limit I’ll actually write that paper on Tolkien's use of language as a world-building tool instead of just getting lost in Wikipedia.”

As Dex grinned and thanked him and chirped him about his paper topic, Nursey focused on keeping his smile easy, his muscles relaxed, his breathing even. He stayed chill, even as his brain raced to the worst of the worst case scenarios for how this would all go wrong.

 

“You’re wearing a suit to spend hours drinking coffee?” Dex asked, one eyebrow raised. Nursey smoothed out his tie and clicked the unlock button on his car key.

“Meeting a friend for dinner,” he said by way of explanation. The fewer words he said, the less he felt like he was building lies upon lies. Dex nodded, probably assuming he meant someone from high school, and opened the passenger door.

They sat in silence for the drive, save for the sports radio playing in the background. If Nursey had been less nervous himself, he might have asked Dex how hewas feeling about the dinner. He pulled the car up to the curb by the restaurant.

“I’ll just text you when I’m done, then?” Dex asked. Nursey nodded, smiling with his mouth closed. He pulled away and parked in the garage three buildings down from the restaurant. After ninety seconds leaning with his head on the steering wheel and taking deep breaths, his phone buzzed with a message from his editor, asking him why he wasn’t ready to meet the special guests. He pocketed his phone, straightened his cuffs, and started toward the restaurant.

  

“He’s right in here, sir, thank you for your patience, you understand the importance of the nondisclosure agreements in this situation,” a voice said outside the small private room Nursey sat in. Nursey took yet another deep breath and stood up as the door opened.

Shock flashed across Dex’s face for a fraction of a second before he snapped back to a carefully neutral expression. Nursey waited for him to say something, but he was silent as he pulled out the chair across the table from him and sat down.

“Hey, Dex,” he managed to say. Dex’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. “Uh, nice to see you?”

“I’ve had a lot of pranks pulled on me, but this might just be the most elaborate one of all,” Dex snapped. Nursey was frozen. This... this wasn’t one of the scenarios he’d anticipated. Shit. 

“It isn’t a prank?” He didn’t mean for it to come out like a question, or to sound scared. Dex narrowed his eyes.

“You set up a thing for me to meet my favorite author for my birthday, and then I walk in to see you sitting here? How is this not a prank?”

“Because I _am_ your favorite author. Dex, I– I’m Duke Errens.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there's a next chapter, it'll be up before January 6 (I need to be done with this before next semester).
> 
> Edited: wow isn't it amazing how your plans can just not work out like that? I swear, I'm gonna finish this, it's just gonna take some more time


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The final chapter! Don't read this just read the chapter!

“Bullshit.” Dex was looking at him appraisingly, scanning his face for any sign of deception. “You can’t be a secret famous author.”

“But I am, I’m not lying–”

“Prove it.” 

“What?”

“Prove to me that you, Derek Nurse, are my favorite author and not just an asshole pulling a prank on me,” Dex said matter-of-factly. 

“Oh! I’m nineteen, a hockey defenseman, in the NCAA, and I live in the northeast, and then I’ve got this for you–” Nursey fumbled to grab the advance reader’s copy out of his bag and pushed it across the table to Dex, who picked it up and scanned the front and back of the cover. He opened it and raised an eyebrow at the signed title page. 

“‘To Dex, your best friend, Derek Nurse / Duke Errens,’” he read out loud. He flipped through the first few pages, looking closely at the text and credentials. He looked up, holding eye contact with Nursey for what felt like an hour. Then he slowly closed the cover and put the book down.

“I could tweet at you if you want, cause I’m verified, and you know I’m not smart enough to hack someone else’s twitter, but like, tbh, I don’t even know where I would go to get a fake book printed so like that should probably be enough?” Nursey stopped when he saw that Dex was starting to smile.

“One, I think saying text acronyms out loud should be a fine, _tbh_. But sorry, dude, I was just really caught off guard and I was scared this might be a repeat of some pranks my friends in high school pulled when they figured out I was writing my journal in Elvish,” he said. 

“You just lost all rights to make fun of my paper,” Nursey said, only processing one part of the sentence.

“No, I can still make fun of you because you keep mixing up Quenya and Sindarin, which are two completely different languages,” Dex argued. “But anyways, how many of my predictions were right?”

“You’re not mad?” Nursey asked. 

“I’m not mad as long as you’re not just fucking with me because I care about something, no,” Dex said. A waiter entered the room then, bringing water and taking their (unfortunately) nonalcoholic drink orders. Dex grabbed a roll and started buttering it.

“So this is why you were asking me about all the plans I had, then. I didn’t plan for this one, but it’s probably the best possible outcome. Sorry if I was being super annoying with trying to figure out who you are and bugging you with my theories,” he said. “But also, that wasn’t purposeful, unlike when you kept rickrolling my bluetooth speaker, so we’re probably even. Why aren’t you talking?”

“I thought you’d be angry at like, the dishonesty part,” Nursey admitted. Dex shrugged.

“This isn’t like, a lie, it’s a secret identity. You have your reasons for not wanting to be super public with it. You’re like novelist Superman. It’s cool. Is Mike’s tattoo a normal tattoo that got enchanted or did he have to get it done magically? Oh my god, wait, no, did you give him the same tattoo you have or did you get the same tattoo your character has?”

“The second one,” Nursey said, a grin starting to spread across his face. “My parents wouldn’t sign the permission slip until it was obvious this wasn’t just another story I was gonna get tired of writing. I address the tattoo thing in this one, though, it’s kind of in-between those– the tattoo goes on normally, but the ink itself has a spell on it that needs to be activated once it’s on the skin.”

“And what about Brody? He’s not for-real dead, is he?” Dex looked genuinely worried for the fictional character as the waiter set a salad down in front of him and a cup of chowder down in front of Nursey.

“Dude, leave something for after you read the book. Do you want to know something crazy about Brody, though?” Nursey asked, starting in on the soup. His appetite was back with a vengeance. “Guess who he is in real life.” Dex nearly spit out his arugula.

“He’s a real person?” Nursey laughed at his shock.

“You know him! C’mon, think it through, I didn’t even make the name that different,” he said, still laughing.

“I can’t process this. How do I know Brody Page?”

“Bro, it’s literally just Shitty pre-stache. B. Knight, knock a knight down a peg in the court system, boom, Brody Page. I put my friends into my stories all the time,” he admitted. Dex raised an eyebrow.

“Any other members of the hockey team? Is Mike going to team up with a huge-assed Canadian? Is Bitty gonna make pies during an exorcism?” he asked. Nursey laughed. “Nursey, be honest, are Ransom and Holster party demons because of that last kegster?”

“Nah, but... you and C just might be helping Mike out,” he said. “I anagrammed your names like I did with mine for the characters, and obviously they aren’t completely the same, but–”

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, I’m in a LaVerre book?” Dex demanded. He looked like he was ready to burst out of his skin with excitement. 

“Well, Mike sort of gets a real team in this one. Like, people he can count on to have his back. There’s one guy who’s super hype all the time, but who’s really good at guarding magic–”

“Like guarding a goal?” 

“Yeah, and he’s based on C. And then there’s another guy, who’s kind of an asshole, who thinks that Mike is kind of an asshole. So that adds some dramatic tension to the start of the story, but eventually– after a _long-ass_ time and a shit-ton of character development– they get to a really great point where they’re really good friends and they can kick demonic ass together in a really awesome way. But Mike is still definitely 1,000% cooler than him,” Nursey said, ending with a grin as Dex switched from looking flattered to being jokingly offended.

“Oh, I see, I’m just a sidekick to you,” Dex said. “We’ll see who’s laughing when whoever I am becomes a fan favorite and you have to write a spinoff series.”

“I don’t know, am I really up to the task of having to write his extensive backstory battling lobster demons and exorcising old ovens? That’s not canon, that’s me making fun of you,” Nursey added. Dex rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling.

“You have to make the backstory more complicated. I do other shit, too, you know.”

“Name one thing besides terrorizing lobsters and fixing shit.”

“There’s this really obscure thing, you might have heard of it, it’s called hockey–” Dex was only saved from Nursey flicking soup at him by the fanciness of the restaurant and the arrival of a waiter with their main courses. 

“Demon-hunting is clearly a metaphor for hockey, you walnut. Okay, so there’s this one thing I need you to do for me,” Nursey said as soon as the waiter left the room. “I put a sticky note over one page at the start. Don’t look under the sticky note until you’ve read the whole thing.”

“Okay? Is there a reason?”

“Just... just trust me. And maybe ask C for a hint if you’re not good at anagrams.”

 

From the dedication page of Duke Errens’ award-winning third novel:

_For the friends who inspired Indwelt Pirelox and Rich Worth-Schope. I only wish I could do you both justice, and thank you for your friendship. Got your back_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go folks! It took me.... over a year, whoops. I hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing this! This is my first published fanfiction, and probably the longest thing I've published. 
> 
> Thank you so much if you left a comment or a kudos through this whole thing– I probably would've abandoned it without you.

**Author's Note:**

> •I'm not sure how shippy this is going to end up  
> •This is actually the first piece of fanfic that I'm publishing!  
> •Come talk to me at shitty-check-please-aus.tumblr.com


End file.
